"This a friend of yours, Peer? Here, then, my boy, here's something to
buy a big farm with." This time it was a five-crown note, and Martin
stood fingering it, hardly able to believe his eyes. Peer's father was
something like a father.

It was a fine thing, too, to see a grand gentleman undress. "I'll have
things like that some day," thought Peer, watching each new wonder that
came out of the bag. There was a silver-backed brush, that he brushed
his hair and beard with, walking up and down in his underclothes and
humming to himself. And then there was another shirt, with red stripes
round the collar, just to wear in bed. Peer nodded to himself, taking
it all in. And when the stranger was in bed he took out a flask with a
silver cork, that screwed off and turned into a cup, and had a dram for
a nightcap; and then he reached for a long pipe with a beaded cord, and
when it was drawing well he stretched himself out comfortably and smiled
at Peer.

"Well, now, my boy--are you getting on well at school?"

Peer put his hands behind him and set one foot forward. "Yes--he says
so--teacher does."

"How much is twelve times twelve?"

That was a stumper! Peer hadn't got beyond ten times ten.

"Do they teach you gymnastics at the school?"

"Gym--? What's that?"